


Past The Silken Sheets

by whispersbabe



Category: Panic! at the Disco, Ryden - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Post-Split, smut kind of, sort of angsty maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6509572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispersbabe/pseuds/whispersbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon and Ryan sleep together after the split. An observation and some angst and confusion and im not spoiling the ending</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past The Silken Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> soo i came up with the idea, wrote this and posted it in the same day. minimal editing so theres probably mistakes. its pretty short because. yeah. inspired by Oh Glory, as you can tell. v&v owns my ass but Oh Glory really owns my ass. anyway. enjoy.

_**when im looking past the silken sheets take a breath to notice im between every single piece of thread and memory that constitutes your dreams** _

 

The post-orgasm haze was exactly as it always had been; beautiful and tired and content. The breathless sensation of their sweat-slicked skin touching as they steadied their heartbeats and brushed hands or held eachother close or kissed. This time, Ryan was tracing circles on Brendon's arm whilst Brendon looked at the sunlight flickering through the blinds in the bedroom. It was sunrise, and the sun just reached the bed and illuminated the white, mussed up sheets.

 

Normally, after sex they'd come back to themselves and fall asleep or go again. Ryan clearly was not falling asleep and neither was Brendon despite the two-day sleepless streak, but neither of them made a move for them to fuck again.  
"What are you thinking about?" Ryan asked, voice hoarse and still tracing Brendons arm. "The sheets, I guess." Brendon sighed, shrugging lazily.  
The movement on his arm stopped and he felt Ryan shift to sit up. He turned to face him. "The sheets? What about my sheets?" Ryans eyebrows were raised, a grin playing his lips as he voices the question. Brendon felt himself flush slightly and he cast his gaze away from Ryan.  
"I don't know. Just- you lie on these every night. You sleep here, you write here and cry here and love here. You dream on these sheets. Youre deepest thoughts and dreams are like, ingrained in the threads of these sheets. I guess theres just something intimate about that." he muttered, staring at the bed. A shot of annoyance ran through him at Ryan's confused laugh. "When did you get so deep? And I do change my sheets. I changed them last week. What's all this about?" he chuckled, eyeing Brendon suspiciously. Brendon blushed further, embarrassed by his ramble. "Yeah, obviously you change them but-like, its still sort of intimite, you know?" he shrugged.  
Ryan smiled softly, brushing Brendons back with his fingertips. "Whats wrong with intimate? We've always done intimate, close. Too close. It's just what we do."  
"What we used to do," Brendon corrected.  
"I dont know, Ry. Maybe we've lost the right to this sort of intimacy." he sighed, turning onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He wished he didnt have to say it, but he was never able to keep his thoughts from Ryan. He could sense the grin fading from Ryans face, and he knew the light would have faded from his eyes. The thought broke his heart, so when Ryan sank down beside him and silently took his hand, he let him. They didn't speak for a minute until Ryan whispered, in a cracked voice, "Have we?".  
Brendon found, with the sun now fully risen and the room filled with golden sunlight, Ryans hand in his as their breaths became slightly syncronised as always, that he didn't know the answer.  
They stayed as they were, peaceful and contemplative until he knew.

Brendon woke up first, two hours later. Ryan was still sleeping, eyelids fluttering and both hands beside his head. He looked golden and soft in the sunlight, a kind of purity enveloping him that Brendon had always hoped he would see often enough to get used to, and now he never would. He took a moment to take in the man before him, tempted to lean down and place a kiss on his forehead but afraid to wake him. He wanted to leave before Ryan was awake. It would hurt less that way; he wouldnt have to see the way Ryans eyes glisten and his expression turned cold when he was upset.  
It hurt to ease himself off the mattress, he felt the pain of it in his chest. This was final. He felt the finality with every fibre of his being as he found his underwear, his jeans, and slipped them on.

He was rooting around for his shirt when he heard Ryan give a groan from the bed and turned around, a sock in his hand. "Youre awake." he observed pointlessly. "Yeah," Ryan muttered, propping himself up on his elbow to look at Brendon. "What're you doing?"  
Brendon gulped, he'd hoped to avoid this. Taking a shaky breath, he dropped the sock from his grip and sat down on the mattress beside Ryan. "I'm leaving."  
There it was, that look. The momentary look of shock, a second of anger and then the realisation and sadness before his face closed off, his watery eyes the only sign of emotion on his face. "Why?" he asked, biting his cheek and looking somewhere over Brendons shoulder.

There's a good question. Why was he leaving, why couldnt he just stay here in the glorious golden glow of post-orgasm embraces. Why couldn't he lie in these sheets every night, share them? Have his dreams and memories and love and tears and warmth ingrained in the threads? Because that is the kind of intimacy that they couldnt share any longer, that they lost the right to when they broke eachothers hearts.

A single tear began to trickle down Ryans cheek, and Brendon couldn't stop himself from reaching to wipe it away, knowing if he didnt get out soon he'd end up the same. He was surprised when Ryan didnt flinch away and left his hand linger, pushing gently into Ryans hair and rubbing circles into his temple with his thumb. He let a sad smile show as he whispered, "I'm sorry, Ryan. I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry."  
Ryan remained silent but his lip trembled and more tears began to fall. Brendon swore he could hear the crack of both their hearts breaking together, a last synchronised act, but maybe it was the clicking of his joints as he stood up from the bed and found his shirt, his shoes, his fear. Could he leave, trust himself not to return? Looking at Ryan, hair mussed from sleep and Brendons hand, his whole face suddenly showing his heartbreak as he watched Brendon sorrowfully, he wasn't so sure. He could leave now, but could he stay away? He would have to.  
It was inability to watch Ryan fall apart that made him cross the bedroom, press a caring hand to Ryans cheek that he hope expressed his love and apologies, and finally open open the door and step out. As he walked down the hall, he thought he heard something smash on a wall, and then the anguished crying of somebody who's heart just got torn into pieces. It only put a sound to the feelings burning up inside him.

Somewhere, on another side of town, there was a bed waiting for him and a girl to share it with. A girl to share dreams and memories and love and tears with. He hoped Ryan could find the same, someday.


End file.
